Goodbye
by EV.Brennan
Summary: A year after Sherlock's death and John hasn't moved on, still clinging to the memory of his friend. Until one day, his therapist suggests he write a "Goodbye" letter to get out the last of feelings and finally let go.


_ Dear Sherlock,_

_I know you'll probably never read this, but my therapist seemed to think it would be a good idea. She wants me to write you a goodbye letter. I don't want to say "goodbye." I'm not ready, but she insisted. Something about "moving on and letting go." It didn't sound like much of an option, so I figured I'd try just to get her off my back._

_ I'm still working on cases, though it's not nearly the same without you. Quite dull, actually. They all act awkwardly around me like they're afraid to say the wrong thing. Well, except for Anderson, that is, but I'm just glad he finally stopped making snide remarks on your absence. A broken nose shut him up fairly quickly. You'd be proud._

_ I started seeing Sarah again. It happened pretty quickly. She called me up one day to see how I was doing and after a very embarrassing breakdown and a couple of dinner's we were inseparable. She brings you up from time to time, says I've inherited some of your habits. Apparently, I'm not quite as impressive as you when I deduce people though, because it "takes me half an hour." Not true._

_ I'm thinking of moving in with her. It's not that I want to leave Baker St., but I can't exactly afford the rent on a Consulting Detective/Doctor-working-in-a-crap-office's salary. Oh, that's right, I almost forgot to tell you, I'm working with Sarah again. We're with each other almost constantly. I know it sounds silly, but being with her actually kind of makes me happy and if that's the best I can have, then I'll take it._

_ It's awfully quiet around the flat, something I've had trouble getting used to and, believe it or not, I think I've actually begun to miss your constant chattering._

_ I miss the way you'd talk to me even after I had left. I miss your arrogance. I miss the way you read my mind and how you'd always correct me when I said that. I miss how safe I felt around you despite the danger and how that never seemed to matter at the end of the day. I miss you knowing exactly where I've been, what I've been doing, and who I've been with. It's annoying when people ask me now because I was so used to never having to explain myself._

_ My leg has been acting up again, the damn thing. I don't know what's wrong with it, but it's gotten me back on my cane. People stare at me, wondering why I limp and I just smile and walk on, secretly dreading every moment of it. My therapist insists in all in my head again, but I know it's not. I can feel the pain. Actual, literal pain. It's there and it never goes away. Besides, what in my psyche could cause physical pain? It's not like I get sad and my leg stops working. I don't know, I seem to be the only one who understands._

_ You know, it's funny, sometimes I still make two cups of tea. Old habit, I guess, but then I set them down on the kitchen table and realize there's no one to drink it. In times like that, the flat feels emptier than usual. Like something's missing, but I guess it is. There's a ghostly nothingness taking your place and sometimes I swear it's tangible. The quiet isn't just there, it's swallowing me._

_ I have nightmares now about the fall. Your fall. They've replaced the ones of Afghanistan and I believe I'm actually beginning to miss them. You see, when I woke up in my tiny, one man, flat they were just dreams, distant memories of another life. Now, I wake up and it's still lingering in the air as if taunting me as I go to make breakfast, pretending not to notice your absence._

_ You had to leave, didn't you? You and your arrogance, always having to be the center of attention. You couldn't, just once, give me a break and stay alive?! For me, Sherlock! You couldn't do it for me?! No, that's too boring. Who would want to stay alive and help maintain the somewhat decent sanity of their friends when they could die and complicate everything?! Is that what you wanted?! I can't honestly say I'm surprised!_

_ You had a friend! I had a friend. You taught me how to live and in return I was going to teach you to be human. I guess it's too late now. It was nice while it lasted, but maybe my therapist is right, maybe it is time to move on. I can't wait for you forever._

_JW_

The next morning, John picked himself out of bed and trudged down the steps to the kitchen. He wiped his sleepy, blood-shot eyes and pulled two mugs out of the cupboard, only to put one back, swearing under his breath. He took a seat at the table with a fresh cup of tea and today's newspaper. As he reached to pick it up, John realized that it had been in the same spot where he left his "Goodbye" letter the night before, but the letter had vanished.


End file.
